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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253430">in the quiet of the night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tartymoriarty/pseuds/tartymoriarty'>tartymoriarty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Did someone say gentle early days fluff, M/M, Maycury Week 2020 (Queen), maycury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:20:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253430</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tartymoriarty/pseuds/tartymoriarty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You really are very beautiful, you know,” he whispers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian May/Freddie Mercury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Maycury_Week_2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in the quiet of the night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Maycury Week!</p><p>Prompt: "I can't sleep."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Freddie, you’ll get kohl everywhere,” Brian admonishes as Freddie performs a frankly spectacular belly flop onto the crisp white linen of the hotel bed and snuggles his face contentedly into the downy pillows.</p><p>Freddie makes a vague noise in response and stretches out his limbs like a starfish. He feels like he could sink right into the mattress and keep going, all the way through the floor until he dropped out of the ceiling and onto Roger, settling down in the room below them. He snickers to himself at the thought.</p><p>“Something funny?” Brian asks distractedly from somewhere behind him. Freddie lays still and listens to him moving about the room, the twin thumps as their cases finally hit the ground, the familiar routine of him having a wash and brushing his teeth. Then there’s a brief silence before a bony knee pokes him in the side. Freddie groans in mock-pain.</p><p>“You’re going to have to budge up,” comes Brian’s voice again. “In case you haven’t noticed, I take up rather a lot of room.”</p><p>Freddie heaves a sigh and rolls onto his back with an effort, then squints up at Brian. Judging from the amused look on Brian’s face, his kohl has indeed smudged.</p><p>“I had noticed, actually,” he drawls. “Do you know, you were described as the ‘leggy guitarist’ in a review I read recently. Those legs are overshadowing your guitar skills.”</p><p>Brian snorts at that, but his nudge is gentle this time when he sits down on the bed beside Freddie. Freddie shifts up to stop himself rolling into Brian. For now, at least. “I thought you’d stopped reading reviews?”</p><p>“I have,” Freddie says automatically. He casts Brian a look from under his lashes and catches Brian’s side-eye in return. “Mostly.”</p><p>“Mostly,” Brian repeats, but there’s no rebuke in his voice. He lays back on the pillows and Freddie joins him, then sidles a bit closer and puts his head on Brian’s shoulder, just because he can. He blows an errant curl out of his face and Brian laughs softly at him, readjusting his arm so that Freddie can lean back on it.</p><p>“S’nice,” Freddie mumbles into his neck. The heavy-limbed feeling is returning again; Brian is warm beside him and when Freddie breathes deeply he can smell the lingering scent of his aftershave. His body aches like it always does after a show and he has that feeling, the one he’s just starting to get as their shows fill up and their audiences get bigger, like he’s finally on the right path in life. Contentment settles over him.</p><p>Brian, naturally, chooses that moment to break the peace. “It is nice, but unfortunately you need to get up.”</p><p>Freddie doesn’t think much of that idea. He makes a noise which he hopes conveys this.</p><p>Brian huffs softly at him, amused. “Come on, sleeping beauty. You need to take your make up off.”</p><p>“Don’t need to,” Freddie mumbles into Brian’s shoulder, which Brian unhelpfully wriggles beneath his head.</p><p>“You won’t be happy in the morning if you sleep in it,” he says. He waits. When Freddie makes no attempt to move, Brian extracts his arm carefully and gets up himself. Very casually, he says, “I suppose I could always get a wet flannel and scrub it off for you – ”</p><p>Freddie cracks one eye open and fixes him with a baleful look.</p><p>Brian grins at him, unrepentant.</p><p>“There’ll be absolutely no scrubbing of my skin,” Freddie mutters, hauling his unwilling body into a sitting position. “Hasn’t living with me taught you anything?”</p><p>“It’s taught me a lot,” Brian says from where he’s rootling through their suitcases. He tosses Freddie’s toiletry bag onto the bed. “For example, I now know exactly how useless a human being can be at cooking, though I’m not sure if I’m talking about Rog or you – ”</p><p>“Definitely Roger,” Freddie tells him as he scoops up the bag and reluctantly heads for the bathroom.</p><p>“I’ll let you believe that.”</p><p>A glance in the bathroom mirror is all it takes to confirm that Brian is right, as he bloody always is. Freddie’s stage make-up is smeared thick and black all around his eyes and inexplicably on his forehead.</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Brian calls from the direction of the bed.</p><p>-</p><p>When Freddie comes back to bed, moisturised and minty fresh, he finds Brian already half-asleep. He scoffs under his breath, but he doesn’t wake him. Tempting as it is, he knows all too well how exhausting this new touring life is. Anyway, Brian looks soft like this in a way he rarely does when he’s awake. Freddie looks at him for a few moments, at the long sweep of his lashes and the slight furrow of his brow. Then he leans in and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before he gets into bed bedside him and turns the light out.</p><p>Of course, it’s too much to ask that the tiredness that has dogged him since the post-show euphoria wore off might last long enough to accompany him to bed; he soon finds himself lying wide awake and staring up at the ceiling whilst Brian snores beside him.</p><p>Freddie tries every technique he knows, all the tried and tested methods he used to favour at boarding school, but sleep eludes him. He finds himself going over the show, scouring it for any mistakes or anything that was good-but-could-be-better. They’ve got to be great, that’s the thing. Good isn’t good enough, and Freddie knows they can be better than good.</p><p>They’ll get there. They can do it.</p><p>Next to him, Brian sighs and rolls over so that he’s facing Freddie. The room is dark but there’s a streetlight just outside their window that the curtains can’t quite block out. Freddie studies Brian’s face in the shadowy light.</p><p>“You really are very beautiful, you know,” he whispers.</p><p>He feels a bit self-conscious saying it, like it’s a confession he wouldn’t have dared utter in daylight, which is completely ridiculous. Freddie isn’t the type to hold back on compliments and certainly not where Brian is concerned. But this feels different, somehow, like he’s given voice to an as yet unspoken tenderness that neither of them have put into words yet.</p><p>Brian, of course, doesn’t answer. He’s deeply asleep, his breathing rhythmic and steady. Freddie makes one last attempt to lure himself to sleep by matching his breathing to Brian’s, but it doesn’t work. He gives up and slides out of bed.</p><p>It take him a while to locate what he’s looking for because he’s trying so hard to be quiet, but eventually he finds his sketchbook and the small case of pencils he’s taken to bringing on tours with him. Truth be told he hasn’t used them yet, not once; he rarely feels like he has the concentration for it between shows.</p><p>He risks twitching the curtain just a tiny bit to give himself some more light, holding his breath when Brian shifts on the bed. He doesn’t wake, but there’s a small frown on his face when Freddie tiptoes back to bed which makes him smile, like he knows Freddie isn’t getting the rest he needs.</p><p>Freddie slips back into bed and arranges himself so the light hits his sketchbook as best it can. It’s not ideal, but he doesn’t expect he’ll be creating any magnificent piece of art. If it can lull him to sleep before dawn, he’ll count it as a win.</p><p>When he puts his pencil to the paper, it’s not with any conscious thought in mind. But the marks he makes soon begin to take familiar shape; long nose and shadowy cheek, the ghost of a curl silhouetted against his brow. Freddie keeps adding to it, little touches of Brian that make up the man, then stares down at it quietly. The drawing has that same inherent tenderness to it and it makes him feel vulnerable, somehow, like he’s sketched his own weakness into the crisp cream paper.</p><p>“Fred?”</p><p>Freddie glances up. Brian’s eyes are open, hazy with tiredness.</p><p>“I can’t sleep,” Freddie whispers.</p><p>Brian’s eyes are already closing again, but he stretches out an arm and makes a noise that just about manages to sound like an invitation.</p><p>It’s not an invitation Freddie will ever say no to. He sets the sketchbook on the floor and nudges it underneath the bed so that Brian won’t happen upon it before Freddie has the chance to stuff it back in his bag, then lays down and rolls gladly into Brian’s embrace.</p><p>Brian’s arm wraps solidly around his back and tucks Freddie up against his chest. Freddie snuggles into him contentedly.</p><p>“Your nose is cold,” Brian mumbles into Freddie’s hair.</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>Brian just sighs in response. He’s already mostly asleep again, Freddie can tell from the lax weight of him.</p><p>There are words that go along with the tenderness that is developing between them, Freddie knows that, and he knows that sooner or later he’s going to have to find the right words and say them to Brian.</p><p>But not now. It’s not a conversation for tonight. Tonight, he can just enjoy this: Brian’s arms around him and Brian’s head atop his own.</p><p>Freddie closes his eyes, presses his cold nose against Brian’s collarbone, and finally goes to sleep.</p>
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